Of Assassin Droids and (Wo)men
by MrMeatbag
Summary: Stranded on an unfamiliar world, a certain droid must do whatever he can to survive. Though this is easier said than done when you specialise in assassination and are surround by several superpowered pacifists. Oh by the maker.


Cold, crimson eyes gazed eerily at the green-blue marble below them. The hum of machinery and circuits echoed through the compartment of the small, hijacked fighter craft, though drowned by the intensive roar of the twin ion drive.

Noting the sheer quantity of water on this small insignificant world, the droid calculated the odds, at speeds incomprehensible for any meatbag, that he would survive a crash landing in any one of the vast oceans blanketing his only available refuge.

"_Commentary: Not ideal. Not ideal at all."_

Metal fingers raced across the controls which blared alarms and warnings at him, as he searched for the closest landmass which he could safely _'land'_ his quickly failing starship. Within seconds he found what he was desperately looking for: a small island in the northern hemisphere, perhaps not the best place to land a crashing starship, but given present circumstances the droid considered the meatbag saying: "Beggars can't be choosers."

"_Statement: Such an odd meatbag term". _He thought aloud.

Plotting a course, he grasped the controls and angled his ship for entry into the atmosphere, the extreme heat caused by the friction was immediately noted, whilst his crimson photoreceptors were almost blinded by the brightness of the burning hull, the flames billowing all around the viewport. The island he had plotted appeared as his craft broke through the incredibly dense cloud cover, lush green woods and valleys appeared to be commonplace, a stark contrast to the bleak oceans surrounding the island and stretching out as far as the eye could see on all sides. He immediately aimed his fighter at one of the wider fields, believing that such a landing would greatly reduce damage to his own form.

Perhaps he would've been correct had one of the starboard wings not broken off his craft. Cursing he tried to correct his heading but by then it was far too late. The ship thrown rapidly off course, and with no time, for even an advanced model such as himself, to correct his heading the ship swerved too far westward and plummeted straight into one of the thick woods inhabiting this force forsaken planet.

The ship, already battered and aflame, crashed with unspeakable force into the woods, clipping one several trees before ploughing into a small strip of dark earth and slamming into a great oak. This great force propelled the droid through the shattered viewport several metres from his doomed vessel.

* * *

His mottled copper body crackled and sizzled as he ran a system diagnostic, face down in the dirt though he was.

'_External frame integrity- 78.234%. Assassination protocol - deactivated. Memory actuators – disabled. Memory Core – intact. Combat protocols – intact.'_

That was not good. With damage to those actuators his purpose on this world was now as much a mystery to him as it would be to anyone else. Fortunately his main memory core and combat protocols were still active, meaning he at least new how to get out of this mess. Determining to scout his surroundings, the droid lifted his battered body off the ground, noting his weapon, a high powered blaster rifle conveniently lying beside him, unscathed by the crash. He immediately began taking in his surroundings. Thick green vegetation surrounded him as far as he could see, illuminated by the red setting sun through the gaps in the canopy. He noted his starship was smashed almost beyond recognition, the once sleek Sith fighter was now nothing more than a rolled up ball of flaming wreckage. With no knowledge of whom his master was, and of what purpose his being in this part of the galaxy served, and not to mention no feasible way to escape this luscious green death trap it seemed hopeless. If a droid could hope. It would take a very resourceful individual to get out of this sarlacc pit of a mess, and if HK-47 was anything, he was resourceful. He could remember that much at least.

The once beautiful canopy provided by the towering trees and shrub and other vegetation was now ruined by the fire and smoke produced by the crash. Any nearby meatbags had scurried away by now. Seeing no other option, HK-47 resolved to scavenge the wreckage for anything useable, perhaps something to construct a transmitter with. Walking over to the downed fighter, his mechanical joints creaking and clanking all the way over, he noted his great surge of disappointment that he would have no one to kill. No moron to blast holes into. No target which needed eliminating. With great prejudi-

He stopped suddenly as his sensors picked up movement. Several meatbag contacts from the south east rapidly approaching his position. His sensors damaged beyond that, he realised he would have to rely on a visual confirmation to determine if they were armed and potentially hostile. Oh the joy that would bring him, it was as if the force had answered his unspoken prayer. Scanning his surroundings, he determined that the wreckage of his stolen craft would provide an ideal amount of cover whilst also allowing his metallic body to blend in, an advantage which wasn't awarded by the foliage. Climbing onto one of the bent wings, which curved upwards, just enough to allow a prone form ideal cover from attacks coming north west, the droid readied his blaster rifle, configuring to fire single long range shots. It was then that he realised that his weapon was not so undamaged as he thought. With faulty power cells, stun blasts were all that it would be capable of now.

His photoreceptors took in the site before him. Several armed human female meatbags armed with archaic weapons and armour. Golden plated armour covered their chests whilst their arms and legs were adorned with braces and greaves and a form of skirt covered their form from the waist to the knees. Their swords were short, even shorter than most short blades he had seen in his memory bank. To top it off, a simple plated plumed helmet covered their heads. Whilst somewhat intimidating compared to other moronic meatbags he had blasted in the past (or so he reasoned he must have blasted), he determined that he would enjoy this skirmish.

Though, he then reasoned that they could be his only ticket off this rock and as much as he enjoyed needless slaughter, he had other priorities.

Raising himself from his perch he stepped forth, his rifle still in hand, much to the apparent surprise of the female meatbags who upon spotting him scrambled to ready their weapons at their would be foe. Cleary never having faced a droid model such as his before this was to be expected.

"_Greeting: It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, allow me to introduce myself: I am Hk-47, protocol droid, programmed with communication, mediation and to – put an end to hostilities."_

More surprised than they were before one female in the centre stepped forward to greet this copper figure. Dark hair crept out from under her helmet, her

"What in Athena's name are you and what business have you on Themiscyra?"

"_Confused Query: I believe I have already answered that question, as I said I am Hk-47 protocol droid. As for my purpose, that is a mystery to me as well. It is reasonable to assume that it wasn't by choice, considering that I crashed here. I would appreciate any direction to the nearest settlement so that I may acquire transportation away from here. "_

"Of what nonsense do you speak metal man? How do we know that this isn't some ploy by man to threaten our way of life?!" Replied the leader.

Metal man? Had they never encountered a droid before?

"That thing is unnatural, I say we destroy it!" Cried one of the other females.

"_Statement: That would be inadvisable. I am programmed with several combat protocols and am more than able to defend myself against a small group of crudely armed organic meatbags."_

Clearly interpreting this as a threat, they gripped their swords with new found determination and advanced towards him in a combat stance, knees slightly bent, sword at the ready.

Realising that this encounter was about to become bloody he raised his rifle, aiming it at the leader in response.

"_Warning: That is far enough you meatbag knife – wielders! If you do not back off and aid me in leaving this rock I will not hesitate to tear you apart limb from useless limb!" _

Undaunted the lead meatbag raised her sword and charged at him shouting a war cry, intending to sever his head from his body.

How unfortunate for her.

"_Prejudice set to maximum!"_

* * *

**Not sure what possessed me to write this, though I was playing an old videogame and thought why the hell not. Though I'd like honest feedback, improving my ability at writing stories would be really helpful for my HSC, so cut me to shreds as much as you like. That said I'd appreciate it if criticism was kept constructive. So give me your feedback and I'll probably edit existing chapters whilst pulling out new ones. **

**Also, tell me what you think about the story concept in itself, not just literary techniques etc. And by all means, feel free to lend me ideas as to where you'd like to see this story go. I'd like to make this as entertaining for y'all as possible. **


End file.
